Arthur's First Dates
by Swinny Fluviru
Summary: AU. Valentine's Day is nearing and one Arthur Kirkland is in need of some love. Dear Francis Bonnefoy's set his mind on helping Arthur. Eventual USUK.
1. Prologue

**Valentine's Day. February Fourteenth.**

The accursed, unofficial holiday that was symbolic to the meaning of love.

_What utter bull_, was what one lone figure, sitting in the pub thought after his third shot of whiskey.

It was nearing Valentine's Day and he couldn't stop lamenting over the fact that, even at the age of twenty-five, he still managed to remain single. It was a sad thought.

His friends [well, what little he had] had told him on many occasions to either get some or join the life of priesthood. Problem was, he wasn't enough of a godly man to do that.

So, here he was with his fourth, now half empty glass of whiskey, with his head propped on his arm staring at the lovely couplings and hating the fact that they were celebrating even before the official day. Why couldn't have he been born with more luck? He tried so hard being the perfect gentleman, but apparently, the youth today preferred different.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ring tone his mobile phone was set on, Amazing Grace. He checked the caller ID and sighed. Glaring at it for a moment, he decided to answer it, knowing that the caller would just call again until he picked up.

"What'ya want you bloody frog?" He couldn't keep the slur in his voice, begrudging the fact he couldn't hold his liquor well.

_"Mon cher, why do you sound so lifeless? Do you not know that the holiday of love is nearing?" _He sounded like he was having a party on the other end of the line.

"Francis, please don' mention tha' word. 'T's givin' me a headache.." Groaning a little, he buried his head in his free arm as he said this, muffling out his response.

_"Ah~ So that is the problem, I see. Well, Arthur, I had called to see how you were doing, and it is not very good!" _He could very well hear the smirk behind his voice. _The bloody wanker._

_"It seems I have a job to do so I need you to meet me at my workplace tomorrow at noon. Don't be late~"_ But before Arthur could protest [with his current state of mind] Francis had already hung up on him.

He sighed again. Well, seeing as he had nothing better to do for the rest of the month since he was on vacation [in recommendation from his family], meeting up with the French frog in his shop didn't seem too terrible of an idea.

He pocketed his phone and left his bill on the table. He made sure he could stand firmly on his feet and walked out the door with as much grace he could muster. After hailing a cab to his hotel, nearly tripping three times on the damn fluffy carpets, he managed to wander off into Lala Land as soon as his head hit the pillows.

_**ItEndsHere**_

_

* * *

D:_

_This is my first Hetalia fic and I'm SO nervous!! [flusters] I don't know if I portrayed them Ok or anything like that.  
If there's anything wrong, like, not having a good vibe, or lack of description, or lack of thought, or lack of anything, please tell me!!_

_So if there's anything, and I mean ANYTHING that you want to point out, please do so! D8_

_**EDIT**  
_

_Umm.. I fixed it a bit, is this good enough?  
_


	2. It's a filler I'm SORRY

"So tell me why I'm here again? My mind was too muddled up last night to comprehend whatever bollocks you were saying."

Arthur took a sip from his tea -Earl Grey- and quietly placed it back on it's saucer. Francis was staring at him -for whatever reason, he had none- with what he could probably assimilate as calculating.

"Francis, if you're not going to speak, you may at least bloody well tell me if I have something on my face." He scowled. Still no response from- _oh wait, he's talking._

"I think you still have a chance, _mon cher_." Francis was looking at him again with that weird stare, stroking his bearded chin.

He balked at this. _A chance for what?!_

Sighing in frustration, he took another sip of his tea. "Look you frog, I don't have time for your bloody shenanigans, so unless you don't tell me right now, I'm out that door. _Without paying. _And you can't stop me." He graced Francis with a well-practiced smirk saying, _'And you know it'_, seeing as that the chic cafe they were currently sitting in was owned by Francis himself. He knew Francis wouldn't have the balls to call the police to have his 'friend' arrested.

This time Francis sighed. "This is something we are going to have to fix, _sourcils_. You're misleading attitude is a first."

That comment didn't please Arthur in the least. You could tell by the way he slammed his tea cup down. [It belonged to the French frog anyway, so it didn't matter.]

"I'll let you know that there is _nothing_ wrong with my attitude!" He narrowed his eye with a fierce glare. He was a bloody gentleman!

"And I suppose a 'gentleman' would glare at an off-handed comment such as that? My _dear_, this is _exactly_ what I'm talking about." He shook his head and covered his face with his hand in mock disappointment.

They were causing quite a scene, as Arthur noticed. Occupants in the cafe were glancing at them from time to time, sometimes children would openly stare at the occasional angry swears -Arthur's truly- as their parents would then plug their ears. This had been going on for the last fifteen minutes, though it was already half past twelve.

Arthur blushed in embarrassment, though he denied it as just his anger.

"Why do I even have to listen to _you_? I think it's my own bloody business with what I do with myself as to what I am." He lowered his voice this time, crossing his arms and looking away from Francis' knowing gaze. _Wait, why did he just think that? The frog didn't know anything!_

"Arthur, I think we are straying from the main topic here-"

"Then get _on_ with it, you bleeding git!" Still turned away from the Frenchman, Arthur waited impatiently for him to continue, still mad about the earlier spat.

"Now, I think you may still have a chance to celebrate Valentine's Day-"

At the mentioned accursed holiday, Arthur eyes flicked over Francis –who was shifting his arms along with his words- but didn't speak.

"-_not_ alone."

Did he just hear that right?

"I beg your pardon?"

Despite not hinting anything, he cursed himself for the lilt in his tone at the end of his question. The Frenchman knew he caught his interest now, what with the odd gleam in his eye and the tilt of his lips.

"I said, I think you may-"

"I heard what you said you bloody twit! I meant, what do you _mean_?" He didn't hide the impatience and irritation from his voice. He was starting to get a head ache. _Hmm, maybe I should have taken 2 pills instead of one…_

* * *

_I am so frackin sorry people! D: I wrote this story in a bad time [in the middle of year ending exams] and I haven't quite gotten the hang of writing seriously!_

_I'd only recently gotten out of school here and so now I'm trying to wing this thing._

_After every chapter is an end to my ideas so I'm not too keen on updating regularly [as I never knew writing could be such a big deal! With the plots, characters, setting, etc...]_

_But I really like this idea of Arthur going out on trial dates with different people! [even OCs]  
_

_The only matter I'm struggling with is how to get them down on words, but unlike my past FAIL!stories, I want to finish this [no matter how many years it may take before it rots into my account at the very bottom of the page....]_

_I know they're unbelievably short but that's just for me to post them to let myself know that it's still ongoing and not abandoned.  
_


	3. Where Francis is a masochist

"This is not funny, Francis. I know I said I wouldn't stand your bloody shenanigans, but did you _really_ have to tie me up?"

Despite his calm voice, Francis could hear the underlying tone of a promise. A promise that wouldn't end well for him.

"If you did not have to be so difficult, _moncher_, you would not even be in this position."

Francis returned his gaze back on the road. They were heading out of town. Francis needed help and who better to bend Arthur's will than his gentle and soft-spoken Canadian friend, Matthew?

On the leather seats of Francis' Peugeot 207 Cabrio, Arthur's wrists and legs were tied in knots. He didn't look happy.

He didn't know why he was going through all this trouble for the British man. He wasn't even getting paid to do this!

Francis didn't even know what came over him when he had thought of helping his mule of a friend. It wasn't pity to the fact that he was twenty-three and had never had a romantic relationship before –the circumstances that brought up Arthur wouldn't allow him to- but probably the fact that it pained him to see his dear friend feeling miserable and drinking himself to death every time he was faced with this sort of situation.

Francis was brought out of his thoughts by the call of his name.

"Francis! Oi, Francis! You git! How long until we reach the bloody destination!? I need to pee."

A sigh escaped his lips. Let it not be said that Arthur wasn't the shyest man when tempered.

He looked over the front view mirror to see Arthur biting the ropes on his wrists in an attempt to free himself.

"A few more miles, _sourcils_…"

They were on a two-hour highway drive. And so far, all Francis could do was try to tune out the angry complaints and insults his British companion had been firing at him since the beginning of the trip. Well, he could say he was more than used to it as he'd had 'decades' amount of getting used to it.

"And how long will that be, you twit!? I need to go _now_! I bet you it was that blasted tea from your cafe that made me like this, now be a man and take responsibility, you French bastard!"

"Alright! Alright! I will pull over at the next gas station, _bon_?"

"Good."

Another sigh. He truly must have been a masochist in his past life. No, more like, _a slave of love_.

It was a few minutes later that they reached a station. As soon as Francis pulled over he immediately set out to untie the nasty Brit of his bindings with the promise to take away Arthur's favourite tea set should he choose to run away. Arthur proceeded to knee him in the gut before heading off to the rest rooms leaving Francis a crumpled heap on the cold, hard and damp concrete floor.

Now this may have been seen as cruel and unfair, but Francis knew better after spending his childhood with the rough blonde.

He'd seen him grow up from a nice and quiet child, a wild and rebellious punk, to this so called 'gentleman' –although he was still violent in his point of view. [Or maybe it was just to him.]

_'Ah, whoever said 'Love Hurts' is true to the T.'_ He leaned on the steering wheel of his car and waited for Arthur to come back.

TBC!

* * *

_Hey they! I know, this is another notreal!chapter! But we'll meet the north bros in the next chapter... *awkward*_

_And if you think this is bordering on the planes of TorisxRomano, then yeah, I know._

_I sorta need Francis as a tool here, so, no offense to hardcore France-fans! D:_

_If there are any errors I've missed that tick you off, tell me and I'll fix it! I don't really have a hardcore BETA, but I _do_ have an un-official BETA! _

_[who just tells me it's okay, yeah it's good, there's no problem, no I don't see anything wrong with it, yeah you're fine, mhmm you can upload it already]_

_But thank you anyway, **Tehri**!_

_Please review!! I _really_ need to know what you think! [I'm not confident enough to _just_ wing-it awesomely._


End file.
